


This Will Never Backfire!!

by cats1ut



Category: Clone High
Genre: :') help, Abe is the Worst, F/M, Fake Dating, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Himbo JFK, Joanfk, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, at some point theyre gonna go to a party, bc im good at writing parties bc im a filthy little teen that likes to party >:), god im a college student writing about two historical figures fake dating, haha - Freeform, i am going to make that a popular tag if its the last thing i do i swear to god, i wrote this instead of doing my college reading, idk how long this will be, joan of arc deserves better, they will never have feelings for eachother, this will never backfire!! wahaha, unless o.o
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:00:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26748442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cats1ut/pseuds/cats1ut
Summary: Joan was sick of watching Abe flaunt what she'll never have.JFK wants Cleo's approval.A mutual agreement could be arranged with strict rules to adhere to, right?
Relationships: Joan of Arc/JFK (Clone High)
Comments: 117
Kudos: 451





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> more joanfk! this time its fake dating bc i love the sneaking around they have to do >:)
> 
> i dont know how good i am at stories w more than one chapter, but we'll see how it goes.

It felt like the school day just didn’t want to end, and Joan was starting to get sick of it.

She was sick of all of it.

The pervading stench of sweat that stuck to the inside of her nose, the constant buzz of mumbled gossip, the endless sea of insecure teens just trying to get through the day, she was tired of it all.

Especially Abe and Cleo.

It was Joan's last class of the day, and she felt like she was about to snap at any second. 

Abe and Cleo were standing a little ways away from her at Cleo’s locker, his arm hanging over her shoulder protectively. Cleo’s arms were linked around his waist as she asked him to give her a ride to The Grassy Knoll after class for a milkshake.

Joan could only look on as Abe smiled dopily and kissed Cleo on the forehead. 

It hurt seeing Cleo get all the casual affection that Joan wanted.

She wanted someone to be so proud to be seen with her that they didn’t care who saw them together. She wanted that intimacy, that care.

Joan swallowed thickly as the final bell rang and they walked away leaning on each other.

She was so distracted she didn’t notice that JFK had come up to stand beside her, his usual wide grin missing from his face.

“Hey, er uh, Joan?”

She rolled her eyes and sighed.

“What do you want, JFK? I’ve had a long day and I just wanna go home.”

He took a slight step back and raised his hands in a surrendering movement.

“I just wanna ask you somethin’.”

Joan held back a groan and turned to face him. She really wasn’t in the mood for whatever bullshit he was going to spout.

“Well, er uh,” he began, rubbing the back of his neck anxiously. “I know that, er uh, you have the hots for Lincoln-”

“I really don’t see how that’s any of your business,” Joan snapped.

“And I want Cleo back as well, so I, er uh, have an idea.”  
Joan raised an eyebrow. JFK wasn’t one for coming up with ideas, so it must have been something important to him.

“Well, what is it?”

JFK looked around the hallway at the students still milling around and frowned.

“There’s too many people here, step into my, er uh, office.”

He held onto Joan’s arm and pulled her toward the boys locker room. 

It was a mess. Discarded socks littered the corners of the room. The stench of deodorant, or lack thereof, was overpowering. A moulding jockstrap was taped to a locker. In thick black sharpie “Vincent Van COCK!!!” was scrawled on the door. The jockstrap was signed “from JFK.”

Joan scrunched her nose as she looked around.

“Why did you bring me in here?”

JFK sat down on one of the wooden benches, his elbows on his knees as he hunched over.

“Remember, er uh, when you helped me with my campaign and, er uh, we made that smear ad against Lincoln?”

Joan nodded, her arms crossed over her chest.

“Well, I don’t know if you noticed but, er uh, Cleo got kinda jealous and, er uh, spent more time with me after it.”

“And I’m supposed to care, why?”

“And with Cleo hanging out with me, you got to, er uh, hang out with Lincoln more.”

Joan narrowed her eyes and furrowed her brow.

“So what’s your idea?”

JFK pressed his hands together and pointed them at her, a wicked grin spreading across his face.

“We pretend to be boyfriend and girlfriend to make ‘em both jealous!”

Joan blinked in surprise, letting his words sink in.

Her instinctual reaction was to punch him in the face and walk away, but Joan stopped to think if his idea had any merit.

Abe was mad at her after the campaign for helping JFK instead of him. He didn’t like it when she spent time with other guys, and he would always take her out for a milkshake if he caught her hanging out with other dudes. 

Sure, he would spend the entire time telling her off, but it was better than being ignored.

Joan stared at JFK, trying to check if he was joking.

His big eyes looked up at her expectantly, shining brightly under the fluorescents. His fingers were clasped together tightly against his chest. He looked so earnest, waiting impatiently for her answer. Joan was pretty sure he was going to start vibrating if she didn’t reply soon.

“Fine.”

JFK shot up from the bench and wrapped his arms around her as he laughed and spun her around in a hug.

“Thank you, Joan! This idea will never backfire on us! Haha!”

“Put me down!” 

Joan wrestled out of his strong grip and pointed a finger at him.

“We need ground rules if we’re going to do this properly.”

JFK nodded, staring at her keenly.

Joan cleared her throat, smoothing her mussed hair as she thought about what she wanted from this.

“No kissing. Forehead and cheek kisses are okay, but no kissing on the lips.”

“Gotcha, no smoochin’. Anything else?”

Joan bit on her lip as she thought, struggling to think of rules on the spot. 

“Once Abe and Cleo break up, we’ll ‘break up’ a week later so it isn’t obvious that we aren’t dating.”

“Mhmm,” JFK hummed in agreement, writing what Joan was saying in a small notebook. His tongue was poking out between his lips in concentration.

“Are we, er uh, gonna announce it to the school? And by announce it to the school, I mean-!”

“We can go on a few dates before we start telling people. Oh, and Kennedy?”

Joan took a step closer to him, making intense eye contact with the boy. He took a small step back, raising his little notebook between the two of them.

“We are not going to have sex. Got it?”

JFK nodded, using his notebook as a shield.

“Sure thing, Joan. No sex. Gotcha.”

Joan stepped back, her lips curving into a satisfied smile.

“This was your idea Kennedy, what now?”

JFK straightened up, putting his notebook in his pocket.

“Joan of Arc, will you, er uh, go on a date with me?”

Joan smiled and linked her arm in with his.

“Yes I will, Kennedy. Yes I will.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Grassy Knoll is famous for its fries, its shakes, and its talent for attracting trouble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> new chapter ! after one day ! that's wild, even to me

The drive to The Grassy Knoll was quiet. The rumbling of the engine seemed to fill JFK’s car as they both sat in silence. 

Joan leaned back in her seat and looked out the window, watching houses and shops race past them. 

She could feel JFK’s eyes staring at her as she looked out the window. 

“Probably wondering why he ever wanted to do this,” she thought.

Joan didn’t quite understand why he asked her of all people to do this with him. Catherine the Great would have agreed to this, and Marie Antoinette. Why her?

Her thoughts were interrupted as the glossy red car pulled up and parked near the door of The Grassy Knoll.

Joan went to open the car door, but was beaten to it as JFK frantically lunged out of the car and across the hood to open it for her.

“Really, Kennedy?”

“What can I say Joanie? I’m a romantic dude.” he said breathlessly as he offered his hand out for her to hold.

Joan scoffed jokingly and took his hand as she got out of the car.

She scanned her eyes across the parking lot to see if anybody saw them. It was fairly empty for a Wednesday afternoon, only a couple cars in the lot. 

Joan cursed and ducked her head as she saw a familiar blue and white car parked a little ways down.

“Fuck.”

“What?”

“Abe and Cleo are here.”

JFK frowned and looked through the window of the diner. 

“Yeah, I can see ‘em in there. Come on,” he said lowly, still holding her hand as he walked toward the door of the place.

“Are you crazy?” Joan whispered frantically. “What if they see us?”

“I, er uh, thought that was the point of this?” said JFK.

Joan frowned for a moment before giving in. “Fine.”  
She held her head high as they both walked into the diner, hand in hand. She mumbled to JFK that she was going to grab a table. He nodded, and squeezed her hand gently before she left. As Joan walked away, she heard JFK order them drinks. 

She smiled slightly to herself as she noticed that he didn’t even flirt with Marie.

Joan walked to a booth, the cracked red leather squeaking as she sat down. From where she was sitting she could see where Abe and Cleo were sitting.

They were on the other side of the room, both of them huddled into the same side of a booth. They were sharing a strawberry milkshake, taking turns drinking from the same striped straw. Abe was talking about something, the hand not wrapped around her shoulder waving wildly as he spoke. Cleo started laughing cheerfully, covering her mouth with her hand as Abe continued to talk.

Joan tore her eyes away from them both and glared at the waxy table, her hands clenched on the table.

They really just had to flaunt their relationship in front of everyone, didn’t they?

JFK chose that moment to arrive at the table, milkshakes in hand.

“Hey, er uh, Joanie? Do you want, er uh, chocolate or vanilla?”

She blinked out of her reverie and tucked her hair behind her ear. 

“Chocolate. How much was it?” she asked, reaching for her wallet in her bag.

“Joanie, we’re on a date. You ain’t paying.”

She scowled, hands still reaching for her money.

“Dude, I get the original JFK was from the 60’s, but times have changed. I’m paying for my drink.”

JFK frowned as Joan threw the money across the table to him.

“It was three dollars Joanie, keep your money.”

“It was three dollars Kennedy, take the money.” 

They stayed in this staredown for some time, neither wanting to take the money on the table. 

Eventually Joan broke, snatching the money back.

“Fine, but I’m buying next time.”

“Next time, huh?”  
JFK grinned, his straw pinned between his teeth as he smiled widely.

Joan winked and took her straw between her teeth.

“You heard me,” she smirked.

JFK laughed and leaned back into the sticky leather seat.

“So what does a date look like for, er uh, Joan of Arc?”

Joan pressed her lips together as her smile dropped. She stirred her milkshake absentmindedly and stared down at her drink.

“Well, uh, Joan of Arc doesn’t really get asked on dates, so.” Joan shrugged, picking at the plastic straw.

“You’re kiddin’ me,” JFK said doubtfully. “This is your first date?”

Joan nodded self consciously and pursed her lips.

JFK hummed disapprovingly and took his mini notebook out of his pocket, jotting down a quick note.

“You should have, er uh, told me. I can do much better than a diner, Joanie.”

“Well as long as Abe and Cleo see us, you can do what you want-” Joan cut herself off as she saw JFK take a different notebook out of his other pocket. “- but no mariachi bands or string quartets.”

JFK huffed, and shoved his second notebook back into his pocket.

“You’re no fun.”

“We aren’t actually dating, Kennedy. You don’t need to do any big romantic gestures. And besides, it’s not a big deal. I don’t really care about not having been on a date.”

JFK rolled his eyes and slumped onto the table, resting his head on his hands.

“If you don’t care about dating, then why are you tryin’ to make Lincoln jealous?”

Joan sighed, and rested her elbow on the table, cupping her cheek with her hand.

“Abe’s a good guy. He’s honest, caring, and he really listens to people.”

“Does he do that with you?”

Joan scowled and angrily took a sip from her milkshake.

“Well, why do you want Cleo back?”

“You’re dodgin’ the question.”

“So are you.”

JFK frowned and combed his fingers through his hair as he sat back into the chair.

“She’s hot, I’m hot. She’s popular, I’m popular. What else is there?”

Joan rolled her eyes and stared at him.

“What else? Do you even like hanging out with her?”

“Well, we don’t exactly hang out, it’s more like we, er uh, make out and fuck, I guess.”

“You do that with every girl in school anyway, what else do you like about her?”

JFK’s frown deepened and he pointed a finger at Joan accusingly.

“Hey! Making me think about my motivations isn’t part of our agreement, doll face.”

Joan scoffed.

“Doll face?”

“What? What’s wrong with doll face, doll face?”

“I’m not a doll, Jack.”

“Did you just call me Jack?”

“It’s your name, is it not?”

JFK’s eyes narrowed. He grumpily took a sip of his milkshake and crossed his arms, “hmph”ing loudly.

They sat in silence for a beat, before Joan snorted quietly. Her small snort quickly built into a full gut busting laugh. 

“I’m sorry, Kennedy, but I can’t take you seriously when you make that face!”

Joan kept laughing, her arms wrapping tightly around her chest..

JFK tried to stifle his own laughter, but the sound of Joan uncontrollably snorting as she laughed only set him off.

His loud cackling did nothing to help calm down Joan’s fit of laughter.  
She couldn’t even get any words out, she was laughing so hard. She could only raise her finger in his direction, trying to explain what she found funny. Her ribs ached, and her stomach was tied up in a massive knot.

Out of the corner of her eye, Joan could feel a collection of people turning to look at the commotion they were both making. She didn’t care, too busy desperately trying to calm down so she could take a full breath.

JFK massaged his stomach, wheezing out a last few chuckles.

“Gosh, that made me kinda hungry. Wanna, er uh, split some fries?”

Joan nodded, still laughing quietly.

“Sure. C-chilli cheese fries?”

JFK gave her a thumbs up and waltzed a little ways behind her to the counter.

“Joan?”

Joan sat up straight, giggling as she wiped a few tears from her eyes.

“Y-yeah?” Joan stuttered, choking slightly on her laughter as she looked up at the source of noise.

It was Abe and Cleo. His arm seemed to be glued to her shoulder as it was still hanging there securely. Abe’s letterman jacket was tied around Cleo’s waist , her arms crossed in front of her chest.

“What are you doing here?” Cleo spat, staring suspiciously.

“I’m getting food? This is a diner, Cleo.” Joan replied sarcastically.

“She meant what are you doing here with JFK?”

Abe looked at Joan disappointedly, his voice low and condescending.

Joan shrugged, and tucked her hair behind her ear. 

“We’re on a date.”

She licked her lips nervously. She didn’t like lying to Abe like this, but a little white lie like this would be forgotten once they started dating. If anything, it’d be a fun story to tell at parties, right?

Cleo scowled fiercely, her face screwing up in anger.

“You little slut, JFK is my back up-”

“What did you just say?” Joan growled, glaring daggers at Cleo and she stood up slowly.

“You heard me, you man-stealing, desperate whore!”

Joan opened her mouth to snap back at Cleo, fists clenched in tight fists at her side. How dare she call her a whore?

“Joan, she isn’t wrong.” Abe sighed.

All the air suddenly left her lungs as she stared in slack jawed shock at the boy. 

“What?”

“JFK is an asshole, Joan. I’m sorry but you must be kinda desperate to go on a date with him.”

“Abe,” Joan stuttered, swallowing the thick, wet stone in her throat. “Why would you say that?”

“It’s the truth.” He shrugged casually. “You must be feeling whore-ish if you’d willingly hang out with that dude.”

JFK returned then, smiling sheepishly with a small tray with a basket of nachos.

“Hey, er uh, Joanie! They didn’t have chilli cheese fries, so I got these instead, is that, er uh, okay?”

His smile dropped slightly when he saw her obviously holding back tears.

“Joanie? You okay?” He placed the tray on the table and cupped her face in his large hands, looking intently into her eyes.

“What happened, doll face?”

Abe scoffed and rolled his eyes.

“Dude, leave her alone. I just told her what she needed to hear so she wouldn’t keep making this,” he gestured at JFK with his free hand, “mistake.” 

JFK stared at him in confusion as Joan stared at the ground in shame.

“He called her a desperate whore,” Cleo stage whispered, cupping her mouth with her hands.

Without saying a word, JFK suddenly lunged forward at Abe, pulling an arm back to punch him.

Abe screamed girlishly, falling on his ass on the floor as JFK came down on him like a house of bricks.

“No one talks to her like that, you twiggy little asshole!”

“Jack, stop it!” Joan yelled, reaching forward and grabbing JFK’s arm before he could actually land a punch on Abe.

JFK whipped his head around to look at her. 

“Sorry, doll, but I’m not gonna let him get away with sayin’ that to you.”

Joan stared pleadingly into his eyes, holding his tightened fist in her hands.

“Leave it, Jack. Let’s just go.”

JFK breathed heavily, swallowing his rage. He turned his head to glare ferociously at Abe. He looked at him on the floor in disgust before spitting bitterly at Abe’s feet. He wrapped his arm around Joan’s shoulders, hugging her tightly as they left the diner.

“Well,” Joan laughed weakly. “People are definitely going to know we’re ‘dating.’”

JFK stared ahead as they walked to the car. “Let them.”

And if Joan didn’t push his arm off her when they were out of sight of everyone, who was to know but them?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's not difficult to guess that i dont like abe. he sucks.
> 
> if this is feeling too rushed, lmk in the comments. 
> 
> i dont even know how to write a straight relationship, im a filthy little lesbian, so if there's stuff that feels weird, lmk.
> 
> idk when ill have the next chapter ready, but ill try have it asap. no guarantees tho
> 
> kudos/comments would be appreciated, but idk i cant tell u what to do


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> driving with a Kennedy doesn't usually yield good results.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh god oh fuck, y'all r probably gonna expect reugular updates if i keep updating at this speed
> 
> some angst ! not really tho. kinda.

Again, Joan and JFK sat in silence in his car as he sped away from the diner. 

His knuckles were white on the wheel, gripping it tightly as he drove. His nostrils were still flared and Joan was pretty sure he was going to start breathing fire if he didn’t calm down.

She was still upset, of course. 

She was expecting Cleo to be spiteful at best, homicidal at worst. But she was devastated that Abe really said that to her. Why would he call her a desperate whore?

Abe had always had a jealous streak as wide as he was tall, and he always held Joan to an impossible standard.

No, not an impossible standard, she corrected herself. Just a high one. He’d always had her best wishes at heart, and he always would. That’s why she loved him.

Joan gazed out the window as trees and houses flew by in a blur, blending and blurring together, strips of colour against a setting sun. 

They were blurring together fast.

Too fast.

“Jesus, slow down, Kennedy.”

The car kept driving.

“Kennedy.”

Still driving.

“Jack, slow down.”

JFK growled, and swerved the car and pulled over on the side of the road.

“Why are we stopping-”

“Does he talk to you like that a lot?”

Joan stared at him in confusion, her eyebrows furrowed in puzzlement.

“What do you mean?”

“Does he really say that kinda shit to you? To your face?”

JFK stared out of the windshield, hands still gripping the wheel as if he was trying to snap it in half.

Joan scoffed, and slumped in the passenger seat. She crossed her arms across her chest and scowled out of the window.

“I trust Abe to talk straight with me, alright? Everyone needs someone that’ll tell us when we’re being an ass.”

“Joanie, there’s a difference between a friend that’ll call ya’ on your shit, and a grade-A fuckin’ asshole.”

Joan whipped her head around to glare at him.

“He isn’t an asshole, Kennedy. He’s just honest.”

JFK screwed his face up in frustration, and spat a derisive chuckle.

“Yeah, an honest-to-god asshole.”

“Kennedy.”

JFK turned to look at Joan, his eyes filled with concern masked by anger.

“What do you want me to do, huh? Just stand by as he calls you a whore, calls you desperate?” He sucked air sharply between his teeth and shook his head. “I respect you too much to just sit by and watch him talk to you like that Joanie. Nah, I ain’t gonna let it happen.”

“Well it’s not like i asked you to fucking hit him, Kennedy.” Joan hissed as she hugged her arms around her tighter.

JFK threw his hands in the air in desperation.

“What? Do you want me to sit back and clap like it’s some fuckin’ show?”

Joan turned her whole body toward him, gaze steely and cold.

“I’m pretending to date you as a favour, JFK. Don’t think that this is anything more than that.”

With that, Joan opened the car door and got out, slamming it hard behind her.

“Joanie,” JFK sighed, following behind her as he left the drivers seat.

“Come on, get back in the car.”

Joan started walking along the side of the road, arms stiff by her side as she sped away.

JFK jogged up to her, walking alongside her as he tried to keep up with her fast pace.

“Joanie-”

Joan stopped suddenly and spun to face him.

“Don’t call me Joanie. I’m not your girlfriend, I’m not your buddy, or pal, or chum. Fuck it, I’m not even your friend.” She took a step toward him, her eye line barely coming to his chin. Her eyes were cold, her tone colder.

“Right now, just the two of us, I’m your coworker, got it? This is business. We made a deal, an agreement. We pretend to date, Abe and Cleo break up, and we move on.”

Joan looked JFK up and down before spitting, “Don’t think it’s anything more than that.”

JFK watched with flushed cheeks as Joan spun on her heel and stalked ahead, rage radiating from her in hot waves. He stared at her as she walked away, stunned into silence by her intimidating words. After a moment, he shook his head slightly and licked his lips as he ran after her. 

“Joanie- Joan, I’m sorry if I overstepped. It, er uh, wasn’t my place.” 

Joan regarded him coolly out of the corner of her eye as she kept walking.

“But as your, er uh,” JFK cleared his throat. “coworker, I really think you should get back in the car. It’s startin’ to get dark and your place is still a while away.”

Joan stopped in her tracks. As much as she loathed to admit it, he was right. The sun was almost finished setting, and there were no streetlights to light the way home.

She took a deep breath, and sighed frustratedly.

“Fine. But I’m getting in the car because I want to, not because you told me to.”

Her words were acidic as she changed direction back toward JFK’s car.

JFK swallowed, his eyes glued to her as she stormed past him.

“Gotcha’. Your idea, yeah.” he laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his neck as he gazed at her in awe.

Joan turned and stared blankly at him.

“Well? Are you gonna drive or what?”

JFK nodded, and jogged back to the car, choosing to ignore the heat in his cheeks and stomach.

The drive to Joan’s house was thick with silence. The sun had set completely now, the only light being the headlights on the car as they drove through the fresh night.  
JFK tapped his fingers on the wheel nervously as Joan continued to glare out of the window, brooding viciously. 

“So, er uh, our deal is still on right?” he asked anxiously, his eyes darting to the moody girl beside him.

Joan sighed through her nostrils and nodded, not trusting herself to speak in case she blew up on him again.

JFK bobbed his head, biting the inside of his lip. “Cool, cool, cool.”

They didn’t speak again until he pulled up to Joan’s driveway, the car clunking as it hit the pavement at an odd angle.

“So, will I, er uh, pick you up for school tomorrow?”

“Yeah. Be here at eight thirty.”

Joan opened the door and got out, closing it swiftly behind her. She paused, thinking quietly to herself. She then leaned down, resting her elbows on the window as she looked in at JFK.

“You can call me Joanie in front of people, if you want to.”

With that, she turned tail and speed walked to her front door, closing it resolutely behind her.

In the car, JFK grinned widely. He laughed loudly to himself as he pulled out and drove away.

“The Kennedy’s always get what they want.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pls let me know if this feels like its moving quickly. i usually dont really write stories, i mostly write spoken word or plays so like. this is new for me
> 
> im also really bad at editing, so all of these chapters are literally posted as soon as i finish writing them, so pls ignore any grammar mistakes or weird sentences. pls.
> 
> lmk what you all wanna see !


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thinking too much can hurt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bruv idk how im finding this new motivation to write. its a mystery.
> 
> hope yall like it!

The sky was glum, and threatening to storm when Joan and JFK pulled up to school the next morning. 

The drive was more amicable than the night before. The car radio played the Top 40 faintly as they talked about nothing. JFK told Joan about the last track meet, about how Sudworth had starving cheetahs chase them so that they would all beat their personal bests.

He stared wistfully out of the windshield, a shadow of horror falling over his dark eyes.

“We lost good men that day.”

Joan talked about an underground film she saw a few weeks ago about a girl and boy who only had a month left to live. It was Swedish and was told entirely through interpretative dance.

“Seems a bit grim,” JFK smiled jokingly, poking fun at the girl beside him.

“I mean, yeah.” Joan chuckled. “It was really depressing.”

They arrived at the student parking lot a few minutes before the first bell. Just as Joan was about to get out of the car, JFK held her arm gently to keep her in place.

“Hold on.” JFK reached behind Joan to the backseat and searched around for a bit before pulling out a familiar orange and white jacket. “Put this on.”

Joan raised her eyebrow. “You want me to wear your varsity jacket?”

JFK shrugged, the corner of his mouth tilting into a crooked grin. He held it out hopefully, the white embroidery of his initials glimmering on the lapel.

“We are dating, right?”

Joan scoffed cheerfully, and put on the thick jacket. It was huge on her, easily swallowing her slight frame. The fabric was soft on her skin, and the faint smell of JFK’s deodorant wafted deliciously to her nose.

“Well,” Joan said, putting her hands on her hips and posing, “What do you think?” She smiled, and flipped her short hair in an exaggerated motion before letting her face drop into a dramatic pout. “Do I look like the girlfriend of the most popular guy in school?”

JFK smiled, enjoying the image of her wearing a jacket with his name on it a little bit too much.

“You look, ah, great, Joanie.”

Joan hid her small smile with her hair and opened the car door, hoping JFK didn’t see the slight blush growing across her cheeks.

JFK followed suit, locking his car behind him as he came up to stand beside her.

“You, er uh, ready to go in?”

Joan swallowed the nervous lump in her throat as she bobbed her head.

“Yeah, yeah. Let’s face the wolves, huh?”

JFK swung his head from side to side, eyes scanning the parking lot suspiciously.

“Did Scudworth let a pack o’ wolves loose in the halls again?”

Joan smiled sweetly, and took his hand in hers. She linked his fingers with hers, seemingly fitting together like puzzle pieces.

“Come on, Kennedy.”

Joan held her head high as she walked through the doors of the school, refusing to let anyone see her as anything but strong, fierce and unapologetically herself. JFK squeezed her hand tighter as they walked through the halls, his nervousness getting the better of him. Joan looked up at him and smiled, running her thumb soothingly on his hand.

“We got this.”

JFK nodded and released a shaky breath.

The crowded hallway seemed to split like the Red Sea in front of Moses, stunned into a sacred and aggrieved awe. Whispers echoed along the concrete walls, the sound bouncing off the metal lockers like a tinny radio. People weren’t even trying to not stare as they walked past resolutely. 

“When did they get together?”

“I don’t know, but honestly? They’re kinda cute.”

“How did he manage to bag that?”

“Do you think she slaps his ass like bongo drums?”

“Oh, for sure, man. You could bounce a quarter off that thing.”

They walked past it all, holding onto each other as they made it to JFK’s locker. He released a long breath and leaned his forehead against the cool steel of his locker. 

“I don’t know why I was so nervous. I, er uh,” he laughed nervously, “ I didn’t realise people cared who I dated.”

Joan rolled her eyes half heartedly and leaned her back against the lockers.

“You’re flattering yourself, Kennedy. They just like the gossip material.”

JFK laughed and opened his locker, his lips still locked in a smile. Joan stared at his face for a little bit too long, the curve of his lips catching her eyes. She didn’t want to move her gaze, trapped in the view of that damn grin.

“Will I, er uh, walk you to your first class?”

Joan shook her head, biting the inside of her lip as she kept staring at him. 

“Nah, you head to class.”

She paused, before boldly leaning toward him. She kissed him softly on his cheek.  
“See you later, Jack.”

She turned and walked away quickly, shoving her hands in the big pockets of JFK’s oversized varsity. Internally, Joan berated herself. God, what if he thought it was weird? Was it too out of nowhere? Did he even want her to do it? 

Did he like it?

Joan didn’t turn back as she walked through the halls. Because of this, she didn’t see JFK gazing dopily after her, touching his cheek lightly. He didn’t want to brush her kiss away accidentally, resigning himself to tracing the ghost of her lips with his fingertips. He whipped his head around and snapped out of his reverie, suddenly worried about prying eyes. He moved his hand to rub his nose and cleared his throat awkwardly as he turned back to his open locker. Time to never examine why he cared so much about the cheek kiss!

But did she mean anything by it? 

No, he reasoned with himself. It’s just part of the act. Besides, she loved the Lincoln doofus. He felt his eyebrows turn into a deep scowl at the thought of Abe. God, he was such a bozo. He had such a great gal right there in front of him, willing to hold the sky for him if he wanted. Lincoln must have been blind if he couldn’t see what a kind, caring and hilarious dame Joanie was. Not that he cared, though. Joanie made it very clear the other night that she didn’t want him stickin’ his beautiful face in her business. Besides, he was only doing this to get Cleo back.

Right. Cleo.

His train of thought was interrupted by the ear splitting ring of the bell. JFK growled under his breath and slammed his locker shut, stalking into the crowded hallway, disappearing amongst the bodies. His head was starting to hurt.

Reflecting is a difficult thing for a guy like him to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not much to write home about this chapter, just some rELaTiONsHiP BuiLDiNG
> 
> lmk what u guys think !
> 
> kudos/comments are appreciated, but idk i cant tell u what to do


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joan doesn't like uncertainty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uhh. hi. 
> 
> maybe it has been over a month since an update, what about it huh ?
> 
> fr if people come back to this im super grateful to ye, so thanks i guess haha

The school day was rather uneventful, which Joan was happy for. Classes came and went, teachers droned on about people who had been dead for decades, and students didn’t pay attention, instead choosing to toss paper and pens across classrooms at each other.

It was chaotic, and business as usual.

What Joan didn’t enjoy, however, was the staring. 

For the entire day, she could feel the hungry eyes of gossips bore into the back of her head. People went quiet when she came into a room, and only resumed talking when they thought she wasn’t listening.

She was almost tempted to take JFK’s jacket off, just to curb the unwanted attention. But every time she passed JFK in the hallway between classes, his eyes would shine so sweetly and he’d smile that dumb, happy grin.So she wore the jacket, if only to see him smile at her like that.

But that was all just for the act.

It was the period before lunch had just ended, and Joan was putting books back in her locker. She was going to meet up with JFK at lunch in the cafeteria in a few minutes, so she was getting her stuff together for the classes after lunch. 

She slammed her locker door shut, only to be greeted by the disappointed face of Abe. She jumped, and put a hand on her chest to try and stifle her small yelp of surprise.

“Jeez Abe, you scared the crap out of me.”

Abe scowled at her and crossed his long arms over his skinny torso, huffing angrily.  
Joan looked at him in confusion, slinging her bag over her shoulder.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

Abe huffed again and stared at her more pointedly.

“Well obviously you like people staring at you, so I’m giving you what you want right?”

Joan furrowed her brow in confusion and started walking toward the cafeteria.

“Where did that come from?”

Abe stalked after her, gesturing to JFK’s jacket frustratedly.

“You’re wearing his letterman jacket!”

“So?”

“So?!”

“Cleo wears your jacket,” Joan scoffed.

“Yeah, because we’re boyfriend and girlfriend-”

Abe cut himself off and stared at Joan suspiciously.

“Wait, wait, wait. You guys are officially dating? After one date?”

Joan felt her face go bone white. She really did hate lying to Abe, but it was what had to be done. After taking a deep, reassuring breath, she spun to face him, stopping him in his tracks.

“That wasn’t our only date, Abe.” she lied. “We’ve gone on more than one, y’know.”

“How long have you guys been,” Abe waved his hands in the air, searching for the right words. “How long have you been together?” His words were laced with spite and acid.

Joan could feel herself beginning to sweat, her eyes darting around nervously.

“It’s none of your business, Abe.”

She turned away from him and dashed down the hallway. Abe took off after her, his long legs easily keeping stride with her.

“None of my business? It is my business, we’re best friends.”

Joan could feel a wet lump forming in her throat as she scrambled to come up with an excuse.

“I knew that you would react the way you did at the diner, and I didn’t want that.”

Abe rolled his eyes and groaned.

“Is that what this is about? Come on, Joan, you know I was right.”

“What? You’re right about me being a desperate whore?”

“You’re twisting my words. I never technically called you a whore, I said you were whore-ish.”

Joan tucked her shaking hands into the pockets of JFK’s jacket. She bit her tongue and pursed her lips.

“Yeah, because that makes such a difference.”

Down the hallway, JFK leaned against the doorframe of the cafeteria. He had a small hand mirror in one hand, and he used his other hand to swipe any hair that escaped from his magnificent coiffe back into place. He grinned at his reflection, and blew a gentle kiss into the mirror.

Abe scoffed, and pointed at JFK.

“Look at him, Joan.”

Joan nibbled nervously on the inside of her lip. She ducked her head, not letting herself look at Abe.

He patted her shoulder, turning to walk away.

“Gandhi and I will be in the library, you know, when you come to your senses.”

Joan stood there, listening to Abe’s footsteps disappear into the cacophany of high school gossip and rumour.

JFK looked up from his mirror and made eye contact with her. He beamed, his eyes sparkling brightly. 

Joan walked up to him and crossed her arms.

“Jack, I need to talk to you about our arrangement. Can we talk somewhere privately?”

JFK’s face fell. The corners of his lips curled downwards slightly, but he nodded. Joan took his hand in hers and led the way, and JFK let himself get carried by her. Her hands were almost the opposite of his in every way. Her fingers were long and thin and her palms were smooth. Her nails were coated in chipped and cracked olive green nail varnish.  
JFK was suddenly conscious about his own hands, about how ugly they seemed in comparison to Joans. He almost wanted to let go of her, so that she wouldn’t have to hold him anymore.

Joan led them both to the school AV club and closed the door tight behind them. JFK saw the tension in her shoulders relax slightly. It was just the two of them now; no one was watching anymore.

“What’s wrong, Joanie?”

Joan pursed her lips, looking at her scuffed boot marks on the linoleum. She almost couldn’t bear to look at Jack. But, she reasoned, he deserves that much.

“Jack, I don’t know if I can do this.”

JFK furrowed his brow in confusion, and almost reached out to hold her hands in his. He curbed his impulse and forced himself not to, ignoring how badly he wanted to do so.

“What do you mean?”

Joan sighed in frustration. Not frustration at Jack, no. 

Never Jack.

“It’s Abe- I think our deal is making his opinion of me worse. It’s backfiring on me.”

JFK scowled at the mention of Abe. Joan watched the boy swallow thickly. He leaned back on one of the tables and crossed his arms. She could almost hear the gears in his head turning as he thought.

“Joanie, I’m gonna ask you a question, and I want you to answer it honestly.”

Joan ducked her head and nodded, looking at her scuffed boots.

“When was the last time he was nice to you?”

Joan pursed her lips, rolling her eyes.

“Are we really doing this Jack?”

JFK shrugged, his hands gripping his biceps angrily. 

“What, do you wanna talk about it after you realise he doesn’t like you the same way?”

Joan scowled and took a small step toward the boy. 

“Watch yourself, Jack.”

He cocked an eyebrow and pushed back from the table, stepping toward the smaller girl.

“What? You gon’ tell me that it’s none of my business?”

Joan could feel hot anger rising to her cheeks and the tips of her ears. She glowered viciously at JFK, head tilted up to look him in the eye.

“You’re goddamn right. How I feel about Abe has nothing to do with you.”

“Actually doll,” JFK said gruffly. “I think it is. We’re in this deal together, you can’t back out-”

Joan poked her finger into the centre of JFK’s chest, cutting him off harshly. His shirt did nothing to mask the firm muscle underneath. Joan could feel her nail poking through the fabric. She chose to ignore the sudden red flush that spread across JFK’s nose and cheeks.

“Never say what I can or can’t do.”

There was no space between them, only Joan’s hand on JFK’s chest. 

He felt stuck there, stuck in the same way a moth is stuck to light and an addict is stuck to their vice. He was entranced.

JFK kicked his dry lips and swallowed the trapped air in his throat.

"Never."

Joan's glare lessened, but her words remained steadfast under the heavy weight of their magnetism. 

The lack of space between the two of them did not go unnoticed by Joan, and she could feel her cheeks flush at their proximity. 

Hot breath puffed from her lips as she looked at him, really looked at him. 

He was in front of a ring light that was left on by a previous student, and he looked positively angelic. High cheekbones that she once saw as haughty and arrogant, seemed now so gently sculpted and hollow. His once stocky jaw was now strong and defined. But his eyes, by god his eyes.

They were hypnotising. They were droopy, and soft. His stare was crisp and startlingly blue, and Joan couldn't help but be locked in place by his captivating gaze.

She didn't want to give up on her righteous anger, nor did she want to give in to what she knew deep down was true.

Joan relaxed her hand on JFK's chest and sighed, leaning her forehead against him.

"I don't know what to do, Jack."

He slowly circled his arms around her, wrapping the girl in a hug.

JFK held Joan gently, afraid of his own strength. Right now, she was porcelain and the last thing she needed was a bull crashing through her life. He was scared she'd shatter in his arms, in his clumsy embrace. So he simply silently vowed to only be a comfort to her, not a weight on her conscience.

"You'll know when you're ready."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope u guys liked it ! it just didn't want to be finished for some reason.
> 
> if it feels like too much happened in this chapter, i know ok haha im not good at short stories :/
> 
> kudos/comments r appreciated but idk i cant tell u what to do
> 
> also feel free to leave criticism, if im gonna be posting these i want to see all views of my work, yknow?


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isolation can lead to revelations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> back again ! irregular update schedule strikes again ha ha !
> 
> hope yall had nice holidays :)
> 
> and for people who still return to this story despite my horrific posting irregularity i see you ! i recognise yalls usernames ! ur appreciated ! i probably wouldnt come back to updte this if yall werent so supportive so thank u sm :')

JFK tried to float through the rest of his day like he usually would, laughing at his own jokes, flirting with the teachers and generally not putting much thought into his actions, but his conversation with Joan played in his mind like a playlist on repeat.

He repeated what she said to him in his mind and his responses at the time seemed lackluster in hindsight.

He trundled through his final classes quietly and uneventfully. Students muttered sussurussly in his direction, but their mutters weren’t as loud as the single conclusion he had come to that was circling in his head.

He loved Joan of Arc. Joan. Joanie. The weird, goth, artsy girl that he wouldn’t have even spared a second glance at last year.

The thought ran around in his skull like the CIA ran to cover its’ suspicious tracks; methodically, consistently, and thoroughly. There was no doubt in JFK’s mind about it, about the fact that he liked Joan. It wasn’t a thought, a theory, or even a hypothesis. It was a fact.

As the final bell trilled its absurdly cheery tune and JFK headed to his locker to get himself ready to go home, his phone buzzed in his pocket.

Joanie<3 : hey im gonna head straight home and take a nap. I dont need a ride. dont wait up for me. call u later x 

JFK’s fingers hovered over the screen momentarily before he replied.

JFuckingK : gotcha doll, lookin forward to it :D

His eyes lingered on the ‘x’ before he sent the message and stuffed his phone back into the pocket of his slacks. He huffed under his breath as he gathered his belongings and made the arduous trek through the student parking lot towards his convertible.

The car ride home was quieter than usual. It was strange, he noticed, how quickly he got used to having someone sitting in the passenger seat. The car felt colder, more lonely without the second presence. The thrumming hum of the engine was more grumbly, the click of his turn signals more grating. Having someone in the car made all the regular cranks and clanks of driving less annoying and more soothing. 

Having Joan in the car was soothing. 

JFK pulled into the driveway of his house and turned off the engine, but he didn’t get out of the car. He sat there in the lonesome quiet, staring intently at the reflection of his eyes in his rearview mirror. He glanced around suspiciously, making sure he was alone. He took a shaky breath, and returned his stare to his reflection.

“I love Joan of Arc.”

The sentence oozed out of his lips like cement, a heavy admission that only served to make his shoulders tense up more and for his brow to furrow deeper.

“I love Joan of Arc, but she loves another guy.”

The cemented words turned to concrete in his throat, and JFK sighed to try and relieve the pressure on his brain. He gripped his steering wheel until the skin was pulled taught over his knuckles and glowed white. He loved her, but a deal was a deal and JFK resigned to the fact that she was in this deal to get with Abe and not him.

He clenched his jaw as he came to terms with the simple fact that Joan of Arc didn’t love him, couldn’t love him.

Wouldn’t love him. 

\--

Joan tossed her book bag into the far corner of her cluttered room and jumped, flopping face first unceremoniously onto the downy comforter of her bed. She buried her face in her sheets, ignoring the lack of air and uncomfortable heat of suffocation. When she could no longer bear it, she ungracefully rolled over onto her back, glaring holes in her ceiling.

“Fuck.”

What is it with clones of American presidents? If she had any connection to God, she’d curse the fucker for hurling them at her from every direction.

As Joan stared at the dusty cobwebs crowding the corners of her ceiling, she thought about JFK. 

Jack, who was so much softer than she once thought. Jack, who blushed crimson all the way down his neck when she stared at him too intently. Jack, who held her tenderly in his arms in the AV club as she crumbled under the crushing expectations of Abe. He didn’t hold her like she was some porcelain tchachki that he was afraid to break, he held her so she wouldn’t fall apart. He held her together.

Joan closed her eyes and imagined him lying beside her staring up at the ceiling. She imagined the space he’d take up, the impression he’d leave in the sheets, the warmth he’d radiate. 

Eyes still shut tight, Joan turned over and wrapped her arms around her pillow, and imagined it was him. 

He’d chuckle, she imagined. He’d laugh softly and wrap his arms around her too. He’d rest his chin on her head and they’d both sigh contentedly. 

If Joan imagined it clearly enough it’d be true.

If she imagined the smell of his deodorant, the familiar texture of his sweater, the firmness of another warm body lying beside her, it’d be true. It’d be real.

Joan sighed, and splayed a hand on the top of the pillow where Jack’s chest would be. It was alright to lose herself in the fantasy, she reasoned. It was alright.

Her mind and body succumbed to the dream of being held by another warm body, someone who was there to hold her, to be held by her. A warm body that would whisper to her. “I care about you, I care about you. I am here because I care about you. This is me caring about you on purpose.”

“I love you,” Joan sighed sleepily.

It took a moment for her fantasy addled mind to comprehend what she said. Her eyes shot open and she threw herself up into a sitting position staring bewilderedly at the pillow. She blinked away the rest of her musings, brushing her imaginings into the back corner of her mind.

“What the fuck.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> college has been kicking my ass recently, so this was written to procrastinate writing an essay due tomorrow that i still havent started (oops)
> 
> i hope you like it anyway :)
> 
> covid cases have fuckin jumped in the village where i live, so i hope everyone is staying safe and wearing they fucking masks. but fr i hope yall r staying safe and healthy.
> 
> kudos/comments r appreciated but idk i cant tell u what to do

**Author's Note:**

> there it is! again, idk how good i am at a multi chapter story.   
> im not great at uploading regularly, ill be straight up abt that.
> 
> if there's anything you'd want to see lmk, no guarantees tho
> 
> kudos/comments would be appreciated, but idk i cant tell u what to do.


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